


so do you want to turn it around?

by truthbealiar



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthbealiar/pseuds/truthbealiar
Summary: Sansa had insisted on naming the house when they first moved in, and Arya had snorted and muttered, "How aboutThree idiots in love?" under her breath. Jon had elbowed her sharply, but he was beginning to wonder if she was onto something.- or -With hearts like theirs, falling in love is the easiest thing to do.





	so do you want to turn it around?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anniebibananie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/gifts).



> this fic is highly self-indulgent and an absolute blast to write <3 dedicated to annie for weathering the multi-shipping storm with me <3
> 
> fic + chapter titles from "get out" by chvrches

It was a testament to the sort of day that Theon had, that he didn't even lift his head when he heard Jon toss open the door with far more force than necessary. He wasn't really in any sort of position to comment, seeing as how there was a hole in the wall of his own bedroom that perfectly fit the doorknob. Theon kept meaning to plaster it over, if only because Sansa got a sad look on her face every time she walked into his room, and he never wanted to see that look on her face, let alone be the cause of it, and he also very much wanted Sansa to spend more time in his room. But every time he thought about going to the store and getting the materials to fix it, a million more important things cropped up, as they were wont to do. 

Besides, Theon suspected that Jon's day had been somewhat similar to his own, and the man needed an outlet. He was the sort to repress to an unhealthy degree. Like recognized like, and Theon could easily identify that in his roommate. 

"Shitty day?" Theon asked, somewhat rhetorically, as Jon stormed into view, running his hand through his curls in agitation, tugging his glasses from his messenger bag. Ever since Bobby Bennings had broken his spare frames during the last week of the school year - a week before his new order of contacts were due to arrive - Jon had avoided wearing his glasses at work. Theon noted absentmindedly, that the frames seemed to bring out the darker flecks in Jon's grey eyes, though he didn't bother commenting on it. Jon would probably just roll his eyes and grumble. If Theon were _lucky_ , he would blush a little, but today was not the sort of day that spelled out luck for him.

"Sansa was wearing those heels."

Theon groaned loudly, and wished he had been sitting up, simply so that he could fling himself backward onto the couch, with the proper theatrics Jon's words deserved. Their third roommate, and love of both of their lives, was the assistant principal at the elementary school they both taught at, and insisted on leaving for work at an ungodly hour each morning. Jon left at a _reasonable_ time, whereas Theon liked to test the limits of human motion and the laws of physics, in order to sleep as much as possible, while still arriving to work on time, and in a somewhat put together manner. As a result, he very rarely saw Sansa in the morning. Today she had left even earlier than normal, so Theon doubted Jon had seen her either, which must have meant...

"Did you just run into her in the break room?" There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice, and Jon shot him an apologetic look as he flung his bag to the ground, and all but collapsed into the armchair across from the couch. 

"No. Maya Fraser is still struggling."

Theon sighed loudly. Maya Fraser had been his student two years ago. She had been one of his biggest troublemakers, though by the end of the year they had developed a strong trust in one another. First grade had been better, but now that she was in Jon's class, she was struggling again. Theon knew she was one that kept Jon up at night, and he didn't like it any more than Jon did. But Maya trusted Sansa as much - if not more - than she trusted Theon, so she was in good hands, even if she had to be occasionally removed from instructional time. 

Deciding to ignore that for the time being, Theon just nodded, and then shrugged, the movement looking odd on the couch, causing his shirt to ruck up a bit. Not bothering to tug it back down, Theon turned his head to look at Jon, whose eyes had gone straight to the strip of Theon's tanned skin that had been exposed. 

"Sansa wears a lot of heels you know."

Jon rolled his eyes. "You _know_ which ones I'm talking about."

Again, Theon sighed loudly. He _did_ know which ones Jon was talking about, and that was the problem. Sansa wore heels nearly every day, but there was a pair that must have been designed by Arya Stark, for the express purpose of driving Theon and Jon absolutely _mad_. They were black and strappy and made Sansa's legs look a million miles long, as if they weren't already ridiculous. Theon had his fair share of dreams that featured Sansa wearing those heels and absolutely nothing else. He was positive Jon had the same. The shoes were therefore utterly indecent, and ought to be forbidden by the dress code, and yet Sansa was somehow allowed to wear them whenever she pleased. Theon suspected the principal just had a soft spot for Sansa, but really, who didn't?

Sansa had been a teacher at Castle Black Elementary for seven years, since the school opened its doors. She had started off as a bright-eyed, eager young art teacher, before moving to second grade, and eventually fourth. She had been shocked when Brienne Tarth offered her the position of assistant principal - having only applied for the position at Theon's and Jon's urging, but she had happily accepted. She wanted the chance to help as many students as she could, she had quietly confessed to her roommates, the night they took her out for celebratory drinks. If Theon hadn't already been madly in love with her, he was certain his heart would have melted right then and there. 

Even though Sansa had been more than qualified for the job, the move had been a smart one on Brienne's part. Theon didn't know of a single teacher, student, or parent at the school who didn't adore Sansa. Sure, she had come to him in tears more than once over a particularly nasty parent email, but such issues were always resolved quickly. The previous assistant principal had inspired a fair amount of dislike with his hardline discipline policies, and his dismissive attitude. Sansa had this way of making whomever she was speaking to feel as if they were the most important person in the world.

Honestly, Theon would be shocked if half the teachers, students, and parents _weren't_ in love with Sansa Stark. 

"I barely managed to make it out of her office. I don't even know what I said. I can't even remember if I explained what happened with Maya," Jon said in annoyance, running his hands through his hair again. Theon was half tempted to beckon Jon over to him, so he could run his hands through his curls instead, but he remembered how tired he was, and how heavy his limbs felt, and decided against it. "I just turned red and stammered like an idiot. I shut the door so hard I think I knocked one of her pictures off the wall." 

Theon snickered slightly. He doubted it was _quite_ as bad as Jon had made it out to be, but he also did not doubt that Maya would have plenty to say about Jon's behavior the next day.

"It's not funny," Jon grumbled, and Theon swallowed the rest of his laughter, and shot Jon a sympathetic look. It was _kind_ of funny, but if the situation was reversed, Theon was pretty sure he would do the exact same thing. Of all the people at Castle Black Elementary who were in love with Sansa Stark, he and Jon had undoubtedly been in love the longest. 

Both of them had known Sansa practically their entire lives. They had been best friends with her older brother, Robb, though certainly not each other. Sansa had always been Robb's little sister, and the one far less likely to go on adventures with the three of them. Theon hadn't paid Sansa much mind when they were young, and neither had Jon, though he was marginally more polite. 

Sansa had gone off to university in King's Landing, while Jon stayed North, and Theon went to Pyke. He had met up with Sansa again one summer, caught up in the same asshole that had nearly ruined him. They had both been in vulnerable places in their lives, and had helped each other out as much as they could. Theon had heard of the opening at the upcoming Castle Black Elementary, and had emailed Sansa a job application. To his utter lack of surprise, she had been hired, and quickly accepted a position. What he _hadn't_ expected was to receive a similar email the following spring, noting that a position as a kindergarten teacher was open. Theon had no background in education, and no experience with children, but he had learned in the short time since reconnecting with Sansa, that he ought to trust her instincts. They usually proved to be spot on.

On Jon's end, which he had confessed to Theon during one of their many drunken evenings, he had felt jaded after only a few years of teaching, experiencing the burn out of taking on too much all at once, and not finding himself able to emotionally separate himself from the job. He had been planning to leave the profession altogether, only to find himself suddenly co-workers with his best friend's younger sister. His best friend's stunningly beautiful and eternally optimistic younger sister. 

It had been easy for Theon and Jon to realize, once they were all working at CBE together, that the other was in love with Sansa. It had ignited their old jealousy and pettiness, and honestly, Theon wasn't proud of how he acted that first year. Sansa had been dating an asshole, Harry Hardyng at the time, and he and Jon hadn't acted much better. Their saving grace was they had always been on their best behavior around Sansa. It had taken a sharp, smug observation from Jaime Lannister of all people, about the two of them fighting over Sansa as if she were some sort of _prize_ , for both of them to reevaluate their behavior, and go out for drinks to commiserate. The tradition had continued, even once the three of them became roommates, and suddenly their problem was so much worse. Theon wasn’t entirely sure when he and Jon had fallen in love with each other as well, but it had happened somewhere along the way, and he had learned not to question this sort of thing. 

Theon didn't ask any questions when it came to him and Jon. He had never really felt the need to. He had known Jon for practically his whole life. In the past six years, he had grown closer to him than even Robb, though he would never admit it for fear of death (from Robb) or an eternity of teasing (from Jon). But there was something about sharing a house and being irrevocably in love with the same woman that brought them together. There was _more_ than that of course. Jon was there for Theon in ways he never would have expected. They had been getting drinks when Theon's father called, and Jon had dealt with the aftermath of _that_. He had quietly watched a Star Wars marathon with Theon - even the prequels - on the anniversary of his mother's death. Theon had returned the favor in kind. So much of their relationship - whatever they were - went unspoken. Theon didn't feel any pressing need to put words to it, and he knew Jon felt the same. 

It did nothing to diminish the torch either of them held for Sansa - practically a bonfire at this point. In fact, being in love with two someones, one of whom was _also_ in love with the other someone, honestly only fanned the flames. Theon was pretty sure he and Jon spent at least half their time talking about and pining after Sansa fucking Stark. Perhaps that was something of an exaggeration, but not by much. 

It was fucking relieving though, loving Jon. Theon couldn't imagine being with someone who didn't want to talk about Sansa as much as he did. Since the only other people who seemed to adore Sansa as much as Jon and Theon happened to be related to her, Theon's options were rather limited. 

Of course, their....whatever it was, be it a relationship, a dalliance, a friends with benefits situation - it was about more than just Sansa. Surprisingly enough, Jon understood Theon in ways he hadn't expected. They had both felt like outsiders in the warm world of the Starks. It had been a major factor in their childhood jealousy, but now it was something for them to bond over. Though every Stark had done their very best to make sure they felt welcomed and at home, they had never quite fit. Theon with his jagged, sea-rock edges, and Jon with his sullen, hunched shoulders had both felt at odds with the unconditional love found in the Stark home. Sometimes Theon felt it was even easier around Jon, taking comfort in the cracks and scars that had never been a part of Robb. He knew Jon felt the same. Even at the height of their rivalry, they had understood, through silent, tense glances, that it was their duty to protect Robb. It was odd to think about now, but it had always been something known between the two of them. 

Across from Theon, Jon heaved a sigh, and pushed himself out of the chair, crossing the space between them in two steps, and all but tossing himself atop of Theon, who let out a grunt of annoyance. Jon buried his face in Theon's neck and mumbled against his skin.

"What was that, asshole?" Theon smirked, quirking a brow, He felt Jon's hand move from where it had curled around his waist, and he was relatively certain that Jon had flipped him off, but he didn't bother tilting his head to check. Instead his hand instinctively rose to begin carding his fingers through Jon's soft curls, and he felt the other man sigh against him.

"I _said_ pining is the fucking worst." Jon grumbled, and Theon simply sighed in return. It fucking _was_. Loving Jon didn't mean _not_ loving Sansa, and some days, Theon found himself really wishing it _did_. It fucking _hurt_ being in love with her. Gods, there were days when all Theon wanted to do was pin her to the wall and kiss her until she was dizzy with the force of it, until she forgot anything but the feeling of Theon's hands cupping her chin. He wanted to curl up with her on the couch, the way they would do whenever Jon forced them to watch some artistic film that was usually bleak and tragic and entirely too pretentious. She always sat by him then, so that she could press her lips to the shell of his ear and murmur her scathing remarks, driving Theon to double over with laughter.

(Jon always glared at him when it happened, because even though he was in love with Sansa, and he was in love with Theon, it was entirely _different_ , and Theon was always going to be an asshole to him, no matter if he was also going to go down on him later that night.)

The worst part about it all, in Theon's rough estimation, was just how well Sansa _fit_. The three of them had built a life together, they shared a house, they worked together, the even had people 'round for fucking _tea_. Sansa curled up with Theon on the couch, and she went for jogs with Jon in the mornings, and she dragged both of them to the couch on Friday evenings to watch Disney movies with both of them pressed against her sides. There were a million and one little things, but she wasn't _in love_ with them. Sansa was very careful with love, while Theon and Jon together were the definition of reckless.

She had been unlucky, to say the very least. Theon hadn't seen Joffrey, and neither had Jon, but they had heard about it from Robb. Theon remembered the way his fists had clenched at the darkness in Robb's tone. He hadn't seen Sansa in years, by then, and he certainly hadn't been in love with her, but she had been Robb's little sister, who cried at _Where the Red Fern Grows_ , who begged and pleaded for another puppy, who once tried to make lemon bars at three in the morning, only to turn the kitchen into an explosion of yellow and _still_ manage not to receive punishment - which made her a legend in Theon's eyes of course. The idea of anyone trying to stamp out the ever-present light in her eyes had been enough for Theon to want to march down to King's Landing and torch the place on her behalf - a sentiment he was certain Jon had shared.

He hadn't seen Joffrey, but Theon had seen Ramsay. He had _known_ Ramsay. The man had a way of carving himself into a person, on every existential level. Theon would have done anything to spare Sansa, but he hadn't. He had to settle for helping her save herself. 

Both Jon and Theon had seen Harry though. Gods, how they had hated him. In a way, it had been Harry Hardyng that brought the two of them together, but Theon would swallow Jon's messenger bag before expressing gratitude toward the man. In the line of Sansa's boyfriends, objectively, he hadn't been the worst. But the resulting breakup had been devastating. No one had thought Sansa was too invested in Harry, certainly not planning a life together. Even Sansa had admitted having reservations about the entire relationship. But Theon still remembered the sobs that had ricocheted off the walls of his and Jon's shared apartment, holding Sansa between his arms and Jon's as she sobbed , worrying that if he let her go for even a moment, she might break apart altogether.

It hadn't been the relationship Sansa was mourning, Theon realized after the fact. Or at least, that wasn't all of it. Sure, it had probably hurt her considerably, to walk into the apartment she lived in with Harry, and find him fucking some university co-ed on their bed. No one would be unaffected by that. But for Sansa, it had been the icing on the worst possible cake, and it had been enough. She had always been a romantic girl, with dreams of true love and white knights and princesses. She was the sort of girl and then woman, who ought to have had that fairytale romance. The sort of woman everyone expected to be married straight out of college, with half a dozen redhaired children, because she was the sort of woman who loved so wholly and fully with her entire heart, that it stole the breath from Theon's very lungs to be on the receiving end of even a small bit. She just hadn't had anyone love her back in such a manner - no one she had been in an actual relationship with, at least. 

Sansa had sworn off dating, after that. Sworn off love entirely, or so she claimed. Margaery had been skeptical - they all had, really - but it had been three and a half years since Harry Hardyng was the last man to break her heart. She hadn't been on a single date, and was surprisingly firm whenever someone suggested setting her up. Selfishly, Theon enjoyed the fact that she wasn't interested in dating, even if he desperately wished she might change her mind, if only for him. Or for him _and_ Jon. The two of them had never really thought that through, what might happen in the great 'what-if' scenario, but it seemed so far-fetched that it barely merited a discussion. 

"You smell like chlorine," Jon muttered, pressing his mouth to the underside of Theon's jaw, and Theon repressed a shudder.

"It's Thursday, innit?" He muttered in reply. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Theon ran the elementary swim club, and then stayed behind to help the high schoolers with swim practice. He always came home smelling like chlorine, but he had been too tired to drag himself to the shower, instead opting to collapse on the first soft seating available to him. Thankfully, Jon didn't seem to mind, since he simply hummed, and continued mouthing along Theon's jaw, one of his hands skimming the hem of his red lifeguard shirt, and the skin that had been exposed earlier. Theon let his eyes flutter close, and he tightened his fingers around Jon's curls, letting out a sharp gasp as Jon suddenly rolled his hips against his.

"We probably shouldn't be doing this on the couch," Jon muttered, as if _Theon_ was the one doing anything at all. He wasn't exactly _stopping_ Jon, but nor had he been the one to try and start something on the couch. Now that it had been started, however...

"Sansa's got that meeting until six," Theon responded, letting his free hand drift to the hard planes of Jon's chest, where he was still wearing his collared button-down. "We've got time, and I'm not about to move."

One of the many things that had simply been _decided_ between the two of them, with virtually no discussion, was that they didn't talk to Sansa about what existed between them. It would require them to _define_ things in a way neither were quite comfortable with, and also it would probably require a level of confession that they definitely were not ready for. Theon loved Jon, certainly, but the other man drove him absolutely mad, and he was pretty sure if Sansa moved out to politely distance herself from them in the kindest rejection known to man, he might actually kill Jon, if he didn't kill Theon first. Even existing as only their closest friend and roommate, Sansa was the glue that held them together, because Beatles be damned, love wasn't all they needed to cohabitate peacefully. 

"Oh yeah?" Jon murmured, and damn him, Theon could _feel_ the wry grin pressed against his skin, so he rolled his hips against Jon's, eliciting a long groan from the other man. " _Bastard_ ," Jon hissed, and Theon smirked. Their terms of endearment for one another were hardly _endearing_ , but it drew a smile every time. 

"Are you finally going to shut the fuck up and kiss me?" Theon asked, his brow raised. Jon could hardly be accused of talking at length, but he had still spoken far too much, and kissed far too little for Theon's very demanding tastes. Urging the other man to do so was equally likely to ascertain Jon's refusal to kiss him for the rest of the night, because he was a spiteful _asshole_ , that's what he was - but thankfully it seemed to work in his favor this time, because suddenly Jon's lips were on his, swallowing down Theon's groan.

It was strange, sometimes, making out on the couch like teenagers, trying to get a quickie in before authority came home and busted them, but Theon delighted in it all the same. He untwined his fingers from Jon's hair, and let his fingers make quick work of Jon's buttons. He tore one in his eagerness to divest Jon of his clothes, and he heard him grunt in annoyance. Neither of them were great with a thread and needle, and on a teacher's salary, they were hardly in a position to be buying new clothes left and right, which meant Jon would have to ask Sansa to sew it back on, leading to an unpleasant conversation, given how terrible Jon was at lying. But staring at Jon's exposed chest, Theon couldn't really bring himself to feel all that bad. 

Jon must have seen as much in his eyes, because his gaze suddenly became that much darker, and he lunged forward again, demanding entry into Theon's mouth. Theon met him with equal ferocity, pushing himself up from the couch to give himself a better angle, no matter how sore he would be in the morning. Kissing Jon was always like this, fast and furious and passionate. They quickly became lost in each other, which was really the only explanation for why neither of them heard the door opening, or the familiar clicking of Sansa's heels against the hardwood floors. In fact, neither of them heard a thing, until suddenly the clatter of Sansa's keys on the floor echoed like a gunshot throughout the house, and Jon suddenly launched himself off of Theon, twisting in surprise.

"Oh - I -"

Sansa was standing in the front entrance, next to the stairs that granted a perfect view into the living room, where Jon and Theon had been all but dry-humping on the couch, only a moment ago. Her eyes were blown wide, with two red spots gathering at the high points of her cheeks, and she looked so fucking lovely Theon's heart actually _ached_ in his chest. 

"I'm sorry, my meeting just - I didn't mean to - I'm sorry, _when_ did this start happening?" The question burst from Sansa's lips, and the flush that swept across her cheeks, deepening the redness that was already there, confirmed Theon's suspicion that she had never meant to ask it. Her gaze switched rapidly between Jon and Theon, and he found himself gulping, sitting up properly on the couch, and looking at Jon himself. 

Jon looked worried, terrified even, as if he feared what Sansa would say or do next. Theon was scared too, if he was completely honest. He wouldn't put it past Sansa to suddenly insist they take the master bedroom, or she move out, or something equally terrible. In a single moment, everything had changed between the three of them, but there was no telling how _much_ it had changed. Not yet, at least.

"It started a while ago. Beginning of last year, I guess," Theon admitted, meeting at Jon's gaze. They wouldn't lie to Sansa, they had agreed upon that. Whatever this thing was between Theon and Jon, it had started almost a year ago. It had taken a considerably longer amount of time for Theon to realize he loved Jon, and even longer for either of them to admit it, but he knew what Sansa was asking, and he wasn't about to offer her half-truths or lies. It had been one of the only things he and Jon had actually discussed about the possibilities of the future, but it turned out to be much harder in practice, especially when Theon noticed the hurt that flashed across Sansa's face.

He had spent the better part of six years being head over heels in love with Sansa Stark. He knew every facial expression, and he recognized hurt. It made his heart pound anxiously, but the look was gone, replaced by an emotion that Theon _didn't_ know. He hadn't thought it was actually possible. A quick side-glance at Jon, and Theon realized the other man didn't recognize it either, based on his furrowed brows and concerned gaze. Sansa offered them no hints, she simply nodded her head jerkily.

"Okay. I - Okay." She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something - Theon's heartbeat picked up - and just shook her head, placing a wide smile on her lips. It looked almost normal, but it was the tiniest bit forced. Theon could tell from the tightness at the corners of her lips. "Well I was going to take a quick shower and then get started on dinner. Is spaghetti still good for you two?"

Theon just blinked at Sansa, trying to process her words. He had _heard_ them, but he didn't fully understand them. Not in the context of Sansa walking in on Jon and Theon making out on the couch like teenagers. Something about spaghetti, but Theon could really care less about pasta at a time like this. It fell on Jon to nod, and tell Sansa that whatever she made would be wonderful, his voice hesitant, as if there were a million more questions he wanted to ask. Sansa didn't give him the chance, just nodding jerkily again, and hurrying up the stairs, closing her door a bit louder than was typical.

Theon swallowed and stared at Jon in confusion.

"What in the seven hells was that?" He finally croaked out. Jon was still staring at the stairs, at the precise spot where Sansa had disappeared, but his voice was thoughtful when he finally spoke.

"I have no idea."

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are always appreciated! you can find me [on tumblr](http://cat-stark.tumblr.com)!


End file.
